“Is that a city?” asked Mackeli excitedly.
“No, that’s barely a village. It looks like they’ve been attacked.” Worry and the edge of fear set Kith-Kanan’s heart to pounding as he hauled back on the reins. Arcuballis tipped over in a shallow dive. They flew through the smoke. Coughing, the elf prince steered the griffon in a slow circle around the despoiled village. Nothing moved. He could see the bodies of the fallen lying atop the wall and in between the huts.
“It’s terrible,” Kith-Kanan said grimly. “I’m going to land and take a look. Be on guard, Keli.”
Arcuballis touched down lightly outside the wall, near one of the rents that had been torn in it. Kith-Kanan and Mackeli dismounted. Mackeli had a crossbow, salvaged from Voltorno’s band, and Kith-Kanan had his compound bow. His scabbard hung empty by his side.
“You see what they did?” Kith-Kanan said, pointing to the gap in the sod wall. “The attackers used grappling hooks to pull down the wall.”
They stepped over the rubble of dried sod and entered the village. It was eerily quiet. Smoke eddied and swirled in the shifting wind. Where once people had talked and argued and laughed, there was now nothing but empty streets. Broken crockery and torn clothing were strewn here and there. Kith-Kanan turned over the first body he came to—a Kagonesti male, slain by sword. He could tell the elf had died not very long before, a day or two at most. Turning the fellow facedown once more, Kith-Kanan paused and shook his head. Horrible. During the Call he had sensed from Sithas that there was trouble in the land, but this? This was murder and rapine.
As they continued through the silent village, all the other dead they found were Kagonesti or Silvanesti males. No females, no children. All the farm animals were gone, as was practically everything else of value.
“Who could have done this?” Mackeli asked solemnly.
“I don’t know. Whoever it was, they didn’t want their identity known. Do you notice, they took their own dead with them?”
“How can you tell?”
Kith-Kanan pointed at the scattering of dead villagers. “These fellows didn’t just lay down and die. They died fighting, which means they must’ve taken a few of their enemies with them.”
On the west side of the village, they found a mass of footprints—horses, cattle, and people. The raiders had taken their elven and animal captives and driven them out onto the great plain. Mackeli asked what lay in that direction.
“The city of Xak Tsaroth. No doubt the raiders will try to sell their prizes in the markets there,” said Kith-Kanan grimly. He gazed at the flat horizon as if he might catch a glimpse of the bandits who had committed this outrage. “Beyond Xak Tsaroth is the homeland of the Kagonesti. It’s forest, much like the wildwood we just left.”
“Does your father rule all this land?” Mackeli said curiously.
“He rules it by law, but out here the real ruler is the hand that wields the sword.” Kith-Kanan kicked the dry plains soil, sending up a gout of dust. “Come, Keli. Let’s go.”
They trudged back to the griffon, following the outside curve of the village wall. Mackeli dragged his feet and hung his head. Kith-Kanan asked what was troubling him.
“This world beyond the forest is a dark place,” he said. “These folk died because someone wanted to rob them.”
“I never said the outside world was all marble cities and pretty girls,” Kith-Kanan replied, draping an arm across the boy’s shoulders. “Don’t be too discouraged, though. This sort of thing doesn’t happen every day. Once I tell my father about it, he will put an end to this brigandage.”
“What can he do? He lives in a far away city.”
“Don’t underestimate the power of the Speaker of the Stars.”
It was twilight of the second day when the white tops of the city towers first appeared. Arcuballis sensed the end of their journey was near; without Kith-Kanan’s urging, the beast quickened its wingbeat. The land raced by. The broad Thon-Thalas, mirroring the deep aquamarine of the evening sky, appeared, approached, and then flashed beneath the griffon’s tucked-in feet.
“Hello! Hello down there!” Mackeli called to the boaters and fishers on the river. Kith-Kanan shushed him.
“I may not be coming back to the warmest of welcomes,” he cautioned. “There’s no need to announce our return, all right?” The boy reluctantly fell silent.
Kith-Kanan found himself experiencing great doubt and no small amount of trepidation. How would he be received? Could his father forgive his outrage? One thing he knew, he was certainly not the same elf he had been when he left here. So much had happened to him, and he found himself looking forward to the time when he could share it with his twin.
Kith-Kanan had noticed the beginning of a settlement on the western bank of the river. From the grid layout, it looked like a town was being built on the river, opposite the piers and docks of Silvanost. Then, as they approached the city from the south, he saw that a large section of the Market was a blackened ruin. This alarmed him, for if the city had been attacked it might not be his father and twin who would be waiting for him when he landed. The prince was only a little relieved when he saw that the rest of the city appeared normal.
For his part, Mackeli leaned far to the side, staring with unabashed amazement at the wonders below. The city glittered in the sunlight. Marble buildings, green gardens, and sparkling pools filled his eyes. A thousand towers, each a marvel to the forest-raised boy, jutted above the artfully manicured treetops. Rising higher than all the rest was the Tower of the Stars. Kith-Kanan circled the great pinnacle and recalled with a pang the day he’d done it last. The number of days was small compared to an elf’s entire life, but the gulf it represented seemed as great as one thousand years.
Arcuballis was ready for home. The beast banked away from the tower with only a minimum of direction from Kith-Kanan and headed for the rooftop of the Quinari Palace. A line of torches burned along the flat roof, the flames whipped by a steady wind. The rosy palace tower was tinted a much deeper shade of red by the last rays of the setting sun.
Mackeli held tightly to Kith-Kanan’s waist as the angle of descent steepened. A single white-robed figure stood beside the line of torches. The griffon raised its head and wafted its wings rapidly. The mount’s forward speed diminished, and its clawed forelegs touched down on the roof. When its hind legs found purchase, Arcuballis folded its wings.
The figure in white, a dozen yards away, lifted a torch from its holder and walked toward the grounded griffon. Mackeli held his breath.
“Brother,” Kith-Kanan said simply as he dismounted.
Sithas held up the torch. “I knew you would come back. I’ve waited here every night since I called you,” said his twin warmly.
“I am glad to see you!” The brothers embraced. Seeing this, Mackeli threw a leg over and slid down the griffon’s rump to the roof. Sithas and Kith-Kanan drew apart and clapped each other on the shoulders.
“You look like a ragged bandit,” Sithas exclaimed. “Where did you get those clothes?”
“It’s a very long story,” Kith-Kanan replied. He was grinning so widely his face ached; Sithas’s expression mirrored his. “And you, when did you stop being a priest and become a prince?” he exclaimed, thumping Sithas’s back.
Sithas kept smiling. “Well, a lot’s happened since you left. I…” He stopped, seeing Mackeli come up behind Kith-Kanan.
“This is my good friend and companion Mackeli,” Kith-Kanan explained. “Keli, this is my brother, Sithas.”
“Hello,” said Mackeli casually.
“No,” Kith-Kanan chided. “Bow, like I told you.”
Mackeli bent awkwardly at the waist, bending nearly double. “Sorry, Kith! I meant, hello, Prince Sithas,” he said ingenuously.
Sithas smiled at the boy. “You’ve plenty of time to learn court manners,” he said. “Right now, I’ll wager you’d both like a hot bath and some dinner.”